The Ballads of Gravity

താരതമ്യങ്ങളില്ലാത്തൊരു സ്ത്രീയ്ക്ക്,  ‘എന്റെ ശോകത്തിന്റെ നഗരം’ എന്നു വിളിപ്പേരുള്ളവൾക്ക്,  എന്റെ കണ്ണുകളിലെക്കടലിലൂടെ  ഒരു യാനം പോലെ പ്രയാണം ചെയ്യുന്നവൾക്ക്,  (എഴുതുമ്പോൾ) എനിക്കും എന്റെ ശബ്ദത്തിനുമിടയിൽ കടക്കുന്നവൾക്ക്,  അവൾക്കു ഞാൻ സമർപ്പിക്കുന്നു,  കവിതയുടെ രൂപത്തിൽ എന്റെ മരണം-  ഇങ്ങനെയല്ലാതെങ്ങനെ ഞാൻ പാടുമെന്നു നിങ്ങൾ കരുതി? (നിസാർ ഖബ്ബാനി - സമർപ്പണം)

പടിഞ്ഞാറന്‍ ചക്രവാളത്തില്‍ ഒരു നത്തോലി സ്രാവിനു ചൂണ്ടയിടുന്നു. കോള കലക്കിയ കാട്ടരുവികളില്‍ ചത്തു പൊങ്ങിയ പിലോപ്പികള്‍ക്കുവേണ്ടി കോര്‍പ്പറേറ്റുകള്‍ ഒപ്പീസുപാടുന്നു . മഴവില്ലിലെ നിറങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് ചാരം ഗോചരം ,  മുതലക്കണ്ണീരില്‍ സര്‍ഫിംഗ് നടത്തുന്ന സ്നേഹവും പ്രണയവും ബന്ധങ്ങളും ;  അമ്ലമായി പെയ്യുന്ന മഴയില്‍ കാര്‍ബണ്‍ സിന്തെറ്റിക്കില്‍ നെയ്തൊരു കുടയുമായി പറഞ്ഞുകേട്ട ഏതോ ഒരു മിത്തിനെ മനസ്സില്‍ പ്രണയിച്ച് അവളുടെ കാല്‍പാദങ്ങള്‍ പതിഞ്ഞ മണലില്‍ നോക്കി നെടുവീര്‍പ്പിടവേ ഒരു ബബിള്‍ഗം അവന്റെ ചുണ്ടില്‍ വീര്‍ത്തു പൊട്ടി. അതാ അങ്ങ് ചക്രവാളസീമയില്‍ ആദിത്യന്‍ സര്‍വ്വവും സാക്ഷിയാക്കി തന്‍റെ ഉപാസനയെ കടലില്‍ മുക്കുന്നു. അതിന്‍റെ തീരങ്ങളില്‍ ഒരു യുവതയും ബോട്ടിലില്‍ നിറച്ച രസത്തെ പൊട്ടിക്കുന്നു. ചിയേര്‍സ്! നിനക്കും എനിക്കും, പിന്നെ ഈ ഭൂമിക്കും!

റൂത്ത് , നീയെനിക്കു അക്കൽദാമയിലെ പൂക്കളായിരുന്നോ തന്നത് ? അവക്കിപ്പോഴും ചോരയുടെ ഗന്ധമാണ് . ലെബനോനിലെ പൈന്‍ മരങ്ങള്‍ പൂക്കുന്നതും , ഒലിവ്ചില്ലകള്‍ പാടുന്നതും നീ കണ്ടു . ഗാഗുല്‍ത്തായിലെ അരുവിയില്‍നിന്നു നീ ദാഹവും തീര്‍ത്തു , ആദിപാപങ്ങളുടെ നിറങ്ങളാണ് അവിടുത്തെ പൂക്കള്‍ക്ക് . അവയെ കാതോടടുപ്പിച്ചാല്‍ കേള്‍ക്കാം അന്ത്യവിധിയുടെ കാതടപ്പിക്കുന്ന കാഹളനാദം .

🔥 I read the Gita. I see the tide rising in the sky, Fire in the air, blood in the river; Yet, I stay calm.

Dibble dibble dopp dopp, Drizzly dribs dribbled, Dazing drops dazzled dreams, Days dawned dewdrops, Dusked dreams drummed distantly! Dreaming drops dripped dazing days, Dreams, dreams, dreams! Delectable deviants danced deliciously, Dreams doomed demons, Dens delivered deviants, Difference dropped differance, dusk drummed dawn!

പൈന്‍ മരങ്ങള്‍ക്കുമുകളില്‍ പൂര്‍ണ്ണചന്ദ്രന്‍, അവനെ പ്രണയിക്കുന്ന നിള,  രതിയുടെ ഉത്തുംഗപതത്തില്‍ അമ്രുതകരന്‍റെ കരാളഗസ്തത്തില്‍ നിന്നും വഴുതിവീണ്  തളര്‍ന്നുറങ്ങുന്ന അബ്ധി! അവളുടെ തീരങ്ങളില്‍ ഞാനും,  ഓളങ്ങളില്‍ അലതല്ലി, ഓം ശാന്തി ഓം ||

Within the corridors of my mind, structural apartheid and nuanced radicalism converge, giving birth to an insatiable yearning for the flesh. You cannot escape my gaze; I have become an indomitable force, capable of seizing your thoughts and channeling divine energy. What I wrote years ago is now unfolding before me, as every writer is, in essence, their own prophet. Yet, the extent of my understanding of myself is but a fraction of what remains hidden in the shadows. The pursuit of impeccable taste and discernment often transforms me into a caricature of narcissism and anarchy. Bound by social constraints, I am but a frustrated child, starved for nourishment, while my silence reverberates, urging me to contemplate the temporal and spatial dimensions of the Holy Cross.

അസ്ഥി മരവിക്കുന്ന തണുപ്പിലും , രക്തം ബാഷ്പമാകുന്ന ചൂടിലും , ഭ്രാന്ത്‌ ബുദ്ധിയെ മദിക്കുന്ന നേരത്തും എനിക്ക് നിന്നോട് പ്രണയം മാത്രമേയുള്ളൂ.  അവസ്ഥയുടെ എല്ലാ  ഭാവത്തിലും എനിക്ക് പ്രണയം നീയാണ്.  കടലും , തിരയും , കരയും , മലയും , കാറ്റും , മഴയും , അങ്ങനെ  സര്‍വ്വ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തിന്‍റെ എല്ലാ മൂര്‍ത്ത ഭാവങ്ങളിലും ഞാന്‍ നിന്നെ പ്രണയിക്കുന്നു. ശരീരത്തില്‍ നിന്നും ചേതനയറ്റുന്ന നേരത്തും ,  പ്രാണന്‍ ത്രികാലങ്ങളില്‍ അമൂര്‍ത്തമായതിനെ പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോഴും , എനിക്ക് പ്രണയം നീയാണ്. കാലം തന്‍റെ ഗര്‍ഭത്തില്‍ മറക്കുന്നതും , ബുദ്ധിക്കു അപ്രാപ്യമായ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തിന്‍റെ നിഗൂഡതകളില്‍ പ്രണവബീജം എന്‍റെ പ്രാണനെ ഗ്രസിക്കുമ്പോഴും , എനിക്ക് പ്രണയം നീയാണ്. കാലം മൂന്നിലും , പ്രാണന്‍റെ ഏതവസ്ഥയിലും , ഞാന്‍ നിന്നെ പ്രണയിക്കുന്നു.

സര്‍വ്വ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തെയും നമ്മിലേക്കാക്കി; ഉള്ളില്‍ എരിയുന്ന കനലിനെ തീയാക്കി,   ശ്വാസത്തെ കാറ്റായും, കണ്ണീരിനെ   മഴയുമാക്കി, കാലച്ചക്രങ്ങളുടെ നിയമങ്ങള്‍ക്കും , ചക്രവാളങ്ങള്‍ക്കുമപ്പുറെ, ആദിയും മധ്യാന്ധവും ഇല്ലാത്തിടത്തുനിന്നു,  നമ്മൾ പ്രണയിച്ചു ! പെയ്യാത്ത മഞ്ഞിനേയും, മഴയും; വീശാത്ത കാറ്റിനെയും, മരുഭൂമിയുടെ സ്വൗന്ദര്യത്തേയും   പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍; മഴയും മഴവില്ലും , തിരയും കരയും  പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ , നമ്മൾ  അനശ്വരതയുടെ കാവ്യമാകുമ്പോൾ  - നീയെനിക്ക് കാലം  

My name is Stephen Dedalus. I am a hawk within myself, a creature bound to the human form, yet tethered to something greater. My wings are magnificent and powerful, capable of navigating even the most violent and unpredictable tempests of existence. In the face of these storms, I will never lose my way. The firmament, that eternal expanse of spotless sky, does not weigh my heart with its monstrous gravity. Gravity. What a profound phenomenon! It anchors everything, yet it also gives meaning to all that exists. Gravity shapes us, gives us life, love, and lust. It makes time and space possible, and in its absence, existence would fragment into endless, uncountable particles of matter. Without gravity, life itself would cease to be, and even death would be impossible. How could I not fall in love with it? I am an anarchist. Not in the political sense, but in a deeply personal way. The adventure of life is enough to keep me enthralled with the transient nature of our existence. I have no ...

The thickness of air is caused by the heaviness of dreams; tears vapoured into the forms of clouds vanish into the same thick air. I haven’t ever enjoyed the beauty of night like this. Removed from the shades of family care and protection, love and company of strangers , I live in the land of events where dreams are born or carried to and died or buried. Living life alone, meeting my needs and taming them and myself is a great adventure I’ve ever set out for. It is good to be here. I learn things fast and the way I meet people fascinates me, they are happening to me. I see that same thick air floating over their head; it rains in their minds unconditionally feastings their body and soul. They are all happy. They are happy. This strange land makes them something else. The memories and thoughts of their loved ones, dreams they make into reality, struggles they turn into happiness, make them monumental men. They survive and make the possible. Life is a cocktail. A perfect mixtu...

Pieta is my favourite art, an amazing Art of emotional sculpturism carved by the victim of life; it frightens me and awes me. The conditionality of human race on the acceptance of fate creates the vulnerability and greatness of its kind- Pieta is an art of aesthetic purgation. What worse could have happened in the life of a mother other than the burial of her son? The emotional trauma she faces cannot be understood or explained through any of the existing or available laws of nature or human understanding. The numbness of heart, meaninglessness of life and helplessness of death altogether execute the verdict of some unknown laws to which we are all indebted from the time immemorial. Which human reason can understand and justify that law of fate? Sculpturism of human life! What I think about pieta and the words I use fail to convey the emotional status of that particular condition of human life especially in the life of a mother. No man can ever understand it, so do I. The...

There were times I dreamt of experiences for my self-wandering lone-traveler seeking experiences of all kinds. The past days were the epitomic declarations of my romances. I love her like I love my life, out of all her imperfections and indifferences I love her. The sentimental reasons of mine kept her alive even in her absolute absence. My impetuous sentimental inclination towards her has grown into a mature one. There, I was a boy imagining myself in different genre of existences, differing from the animus and anima I could never find a hiding place for my own.  She was a girl living in her utopian social dilemma and I was a boy living in my own anonymity loving the uncertainties ofj existence pertaining to the probabilities of possibilities. (18/12/14, 09:1 d I have edited something here. Those words are left to eterninty. Above, those words are still there in their alter life, ghost life. 0 PM) I’m grown into a man; she into a woman and I see her now, glowing like a st...

We are the harvesters of destiny, gathering the leeches of existence and the capriciousness of emotionless masks amidst the shores of lucid dreams and nocturnal splendor. I yearn to sing, to dance, to cry out like a madman. Bring me wine, and I shall whirl the world around the whims of human consciousness. Lead me into the depths of hell's darkness, and I'll illuminate her gates, infusing them with the exuberance of joy, filling the chalice of primal desires. Drinking deeply from life's cup, its bittersweet nectar rejuvenates my senses, enriching the tapestry of my existence. I embrace life, I consume love to its very dregs. Love, the sacred effusion of existence, binds me in the inability to unlove. I am submerged, intoxicated by the essence of my desires for her. And there, amidst the throng, I see them—men of remarkable vitality and determination, reflections of my own life, incarnations of staggering resilience. I am alive. I am Nature, she is my masterpiece. You cannot...

I am a lone wanderer. The stars above are my guides, the wind my unyielding speed, and my dreams, those untamed forces, propel me forward. Time unfolds beneath my feet, the road stretching endlessly, and space becomes nothing more than a marker of milestones—yet I do not seek to know where it all leads. My destination is a mystery, and that mystery is enough. There is a reason behind every encounter, a force behind every meeting. What drives us to act as we do, to choose one path and not another? Have you ever considered your own death? Not the mere event of it, but the various ways it could come? There is a strange discomfort in contemplating death. The energy that once surged through our veins, that vibrant force sustaining life, gradually fades. This is the inevitable rhythm of existence. As our bodies decay, the universe itself renews us in its cosmic furnace—where the struggle between life’s resilience and death’s inevitability unfolds. Life finds its way, and so too does death, ...

Hey, DO you know something about her? S-H-E- P-R-E-T-E-N-D-S- A- L-O-T, A LOT MEANS- SEE, SHE HAS THIS AFFECTATION AND CRAZY UTOPIANism. HOWEVER, SHE IS VERY PRACTICAL, I should admit it after all. And I’ve been all the way praising and singing her beauty, actually adoring, isn’t it? You know one thing? Actually, she’s isn’t really that pretty or beautiful or A-T-T-R-A-C-T-I-V-E. Really, im not kidding. Mmmmmm.. well, I’m sorry about that (I’m chuckling now). See dear, ( I know you are reading it I ) you are absolutely b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l and y-o-u- a-r-e something else I couldn’t ever find anywhere. So precious, you moron. And I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more (well, the last sentence is a quote from some wallpaper <which I didn’t put in the quotation>. I’m having it for my WhatsApp  profile picture. Did you see that? if not, do it now because I may change it sometimes I ). And, she has this v...

Of course, time and space run together. Working on a mutual understanding and habituation, they never overrule each other, but make the feel like one. In fact, they exist in two different sub-segments of a whole ever running chain of Life-Energy. Say, each segment carries particular memories connected with each time and space. There’s an atomic interpellation in each segments of time and space continuum.  They are designed like our DNA structure- myriads of segments and sub segments forming an ever-changing structure that progresses unto its destiny! If so, is time and space different? Yes, course, they are. Well, if that so, do they have separate existing parameters and entity or are they independent? Yes, they have separate entities and they exist in separate sub segments of one among many segments of a very ever-running wheel of Life-Energy. So, each sub segments of time and space contains particular events of our lives. They record everything in their respective fields and ...

"All characters appearing in this work are not fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely not coincidental." Epigraph First encounter is always a beautifully weird one if it was not planned beforehand. (16/08/14, 7:00 PM) … And that was the craziest thing he has ever done in his life. Whilst he forgot the place, the people, and the time- present and past, the whole universe became comprised into hers. Sounds around him became the echoes of some vague and random undeciphered chaos he heard under water or more like that of sounds he heard in his mother’s womb. Familiar public is tactically a good space for you to place yourself in a comfortable zone. It helps you both to pretend socially that you are enjoying their talk with a gorgeous smile.  (17/08/14, 9:46 PM) I can’t continue because I face a block here. I wrote this passage a month ago and each day I come in to continue the epigraph; then, I meet expression...

I am writing here again after pretty a long time.  I made myself not to write the lives.  I live many lives literally, of unbelievable kinds and non-existing; sometimes platonic Romeos and Juliets or Ulyssess and Aristotles.   An Expat! Far from the land of roots and romances, time took me to the exotic and strange lands of dreams. The air is suffocating with the pollution of dreams of expats including mine. It's strange and horrible to feel the air of my new lands because I feel wetness of tears and hollowness of dreams in the air left by my unfortunate fellow beings. Here, I stand on my own legs firm and staunch, to witness the passage of time along with the depletion of age of my fellow being. I fly above them like a hawk. I don't prey them, but I prey their dreams left untamed and hollowed. Who am I here? An occurrence? Falling into the perfect shapes of time and space gravity contradicts its own laws. Reality is much better than the fantasy as it constitut...

It was the 13th of August when I received her message, a simple note on WhatsApp: “I was in Kannur last weekend :p” “Coming tomorrow.” She comes and goes, a presence that lingers yet never truly stays. Each departure, each moment of leaving, is marked by the same phrase: “I was in Kannur :p.” It’s her signature, an emblem that always follows her, like a shadow trailing her every move. Why does she return to Cannanore? Is there some occasion I’m unaware of? A gathering, a celebration? The thoughts swirl like a storm in my mind. I, seeking answers, reach out to my mother, casually inquiring if there’s some event—perhaps a marriage or a family function. It was then that she revealed it. A family friend’s engagement.  (02/10/14, 03:30 PM) I sat in silence, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “What is happening?”  I thought, my chest tightening, each beat of my heart louder than the last. “No… I can’t… I didn’t…” The realization crashed over me, a wave of panic that nearly pulled...